


Sweaters and Misguiding Behaviors

by DesiInaCrate



Category: Hannibal ( NBC )
Genre: Alpha!Will, But you're both trying to hide it, F/M, It gets Explicit later I swear, Medical Marijuana Use, Omega!You, Will Graham and you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 21:57:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3666711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesiInaCrate/pseuds/DesiInaCrate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will needs to get away - Perhaps back to Louisiana?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweaters and Misguiding Behaviors

Hannibal Lecter was a dark man, a dark Alpha by nature. His eyes swam with secrets, and you suspected they were just as dark as the iris' themselves. So, When Hannibal invited you to his home ( "There is a play I would love for you to lay witness to" ) You came armed and ready...for what, you weren't entirely sure. But it certainly was not a dead Alana Bloom, a Beta woman who sometimes taught the psychology course at your high school, on Hannibal’s doorstep. The rain had slowed significantly on your walk here, but it still made your sight tremble and wave like that of a heat mirage on the asphalt. "Oh My God..." You say quietly, and there must have been a call already made by now, but you still dial 911 on your phone, fingers uncontrollably shaking as you gave the address, added with a weak little, "Please Hurry." You take a breath, and ready yourself as you toe open the slightly ajar door, fists in front of you in a boxers stance. You, yourself, were an Omega, but refused to act like one. Fighting was second nature to you. "Hello?" You call, and the reek of blood ruins your nose momentarily. You hike up the collar of your shirt to cover your aching nostrils, and take a quick turn from the hall to the kitchen, following the trail of blood.

Gasping like two fish in a pool of their own mixing blood, Abigail Hobbs and William Graham cling to life, lights fading from their equally electric blue eyes. " _Will_!" You shout, and go to your knees, pressing your hands against his stomach. "No," he croaks, and points to Abigail. "Her...Her..."You swallow around the sudden lump, and grab a towel from the granite slab of a counter, relinquishing your scarfs place on your neck as you tie the towel tightly on the wound - enough to slow the blood, not the breathing. You rip off your coat, wrapping it around Wills abdomen, pressing on the wound steadily. Slick, blackish-crimson covers your hands in no time, and you gasp at Will and Abigail to hang on the _ir almost here just please hang on you two hang on..._

~~00~~

 

The light of the hospital room was the first thing you felt after the hand squeezing yours. With a slow, quiet intake of air, you open your eyes. Your glasses had been set on the table used for setting the tray of food on, and the hand that wasn't holding yours handed them over. Unfolding them, placing them on your nose, Wills face came into focus. He was pale, paler than usual, with eyes as bright as the summer sky that faded just outside the pane of glass. You smile, sitting up quickly, "Will..!" You gasp out, and hold his hand just that much tighter. Wills stubbly mouth quirks into a smile, "Hey..." He grinds out, voice gravelly, as you sigh out in relief. "Hey, sickly." You tease, but choke down the tears of relief because he's alive. "Abigail?" Will asks, and he seems to be resigned to one word questions and answers. "She's fine, I visit her every day. She's awake - She surprisingly didn't go into a coma like last time." Wills sigh is a mixture of relief, agony and utter anxiety in its purest form as the heart monitor goes from beep...beep...beep... to BEEP.. BEEP.. BEEP.. BEEP. "Oh, God, What's going to happen now?" Rough hands ( the veins stick out like blue pen lines under see-through paper ) cover the emotional face, hiding behind them. 

"Will?"  
"I killed Randall Tier, __. "  
"In self defense."

The Alpha slides his hands away, revealing the eyes, still so bright. "You really believe me putting him on display like that was self defense?" You scowl at him, squeeze his hand. "I believe Hannibal Lecter manipulated you into doing things that went against your better judgement." Will watches you for a moment, before hiding his eyes behind their lids, sighing heavily. You run your fingers through Wills curls slowly, feeling him relax as the heart rate on the monitor returned to normal. "Just rest, kay?" You say softly, watching as his eyes flutter, then relax. You, yourself, ask for some paper and a pencil from the nurses station - you'll have to go home anyways tonight to grab some clothes, you'll just grab your sketch pad on the way - and curl up again by Wills bedside, doodling. 

You and William are friends ( is that even the right word for your relationship? ) for half a year now. You smile when you remember how you two (literally) ran into each other. You had taken your dog to the park, a good after-winter run with her kin. There were eight dogs in total, but only two people. You didn't notice, just having a good time sketching in your pad, sitting crossed-legged and barefoot in the lush grass as your dog and the others played and barked and rolled. One of the other dogs ran up to you, muddy pawed, and jumped in your lap. "Ah!" You had gasped at the sight of the paw print of mud on your drawing when the little dog settled in your lap. "You rude little hot dog," You said, half teasing, half serious as you rubbed a finger under the dogs chin. "Buster!" the other person there - Handsome in the face, wild in the hair - had come jogging up. He fidgeted now, suddenly unsure of what to do. "I'm sorry, He usually doesn't do that..." You smiled at him, tense. You didn't like people, let alone  _men_ (Alpha or not.), so you busied yourself with holding the sketch of your dog up, tilting your head. "Y'Know, it's alright. It makes it more...real." You lifted Buster in the crook of your arm, bending as you stood. It was at this exact moment the scruffy man had bent down, thinking you were going to put Buster on the ground. The back of your head collided with the mans forehead, and you both shouted in pain and surprise.

You started laughing, taking a good step and a half back before standing to your full height. "I-I am so sorry!" You laughed out, the stranger chuckling as he rubbed his forehead. "No, it's alright." You handed the small terrier-mix-looking pup to his owner.  
"I'm __" You said after a moment.  
"Will Graham." There was no shaking of hands, instead just a whole pack of dogs running, circling you, sniffing, barking. Will made a 'TssTss' sound, and the barking ceased, but not the nose-guided investigation, your dog following suit, but to Will. The way Wills eyes looked you over while trying to make it seem his concentration was wholly on your dog made you nervous. You had tried so hard to hide your Omega - You had forgone the Beta perfume today, thinking it was just going to be you and your dog. Luckily, you showered with Beta scented everything - did he know?

His scent resembled a Beta as well, so it couldn't have been that bad. But, still, it unnerved you. 

 

The next time you two met, it was in a book store. Someone had cleared their throat behind you, and, on instinct, you turned. The multitude of books you had in you arms blocked your view of the possible customer. "Oh - I'm so sorry!" You say, "I'll be with you in just a second, just let me - " Half the books are suddenly gone, tucked at Wills side, his stubbly mouth twitching up in ( something resembling ) a smile. You smile in return, not enough to display teeth, but enough to be kind.  
"Ah - Will! Hi!"

"Don't tell me you're buying all these?"

"I wish. No, I work here. What are you doing here?" Will smiles again, but it's terse and sardonic. "My friend, Alana Bloom, suggested I check out a book on Empathy Disorder." You gasp at the familiar name, stocking where the books belonged. "Oh, I know Miss Bloom - She substitutes sometimes at my high school." It sounds like Will choked, and you furrowed your brow.

"What?"

" _High school_? How old are you?"

You blink, "I'm seventeen."

"You look older."

"I get that a lot."

Finishing stashing the books in their assigned places, you help Will find the book(s) he referred to earlier. "I didn't know Empathy was a disorder...makes me sound sick," You laugh, short and humorless. "You're an Empath?" You nodded, explained your experience at school (why it was you had depression and anxiety) on a daily basis. Will nodded slowly, listening. "Not to compete, but it's worse for me..." Will explained what he did (aside from being a professor) and you're mildly horrified. "They make you do that? How often?"

Will says almost everyday, and you want to scream. Maybe it wasn't your anger, though, maybe it was Wills. An anger, rage, at the appalling job that he kept just beneath the surface of his alabaster skin. Nonetheless, you frown deeply. It makes Will chuckles as her pats your head with the few books (thin, paperback - He's not caring too hard at going against his friends wishes. ), bringing them to the counter and buying them. "Have a good day, Will. Who knows, maybe we'll bump into each other again?"

"Lets hope it wasn't like last time."

You laugh, and wave him away, watching him leave through the window until he was out of your sight, over the hill. Something strange entered the air. Like a phantom was following Wills exact footsteps out. Your eyes widen, breath catching. It wasn't strong, an air-light whisper of musk against your nose, but there was no denying it. You smelled it - Alpha. 

The scent left as quickly an oddly as it came, and it was a relief to not have to deal with it the rest of your shift.

 

The first few meetings after that were a little tense; You’d flinch when he moved too fast, curled away when he raised his voice. Luckily none of this happened too much (Will is a quiet face of water, the current raging underneath.) and you continued to enjoy one another’s company. You watched his dogs now and then, just as he watched yours. You two would laugh on the phone while planning a doggy play date, you’d hang up and ready your rusted old mustang when his voice shook and broke on the phone so you could hurry to Wolftrap to comfort your new found friend. 

To you, you guys were close, a pack of ten ( a mixture of human and dog )

 

You could see Hannibal’s manipulation written on his finely chiseled face. You first met him at a crime scene near your house. It was a large, abandoned cabin with three stories and a balcony. In the middle of no where, nature was already starting to regain this cleared place with the over-grown grass and crawling ivy, reaching like red fingers up the log cabin. The trees towered overhead, reaching into the low-hanging clouds for the sun, which was lost behind a sea of grey cotton. You walk up the steps with Will, and gasp at the horrifying display of crimson. Will scoffs and looks away as you stare at the large canvas. It was ten feet by six feet, the body of a young, dark haired girl laying splayed open on the floor, many different kinds of paint brushes sticking out of her ripped open chest. On the canvas, painted in blood (you cover your nose with an offered handkerchief from Jack Crawford) was a portrait of Will Graham. You turn your head just slightly, tilting it to look up at the scruffy Alpha. His eyes were voids of blue, reflecting the light, but not absorbing it. You place a tentative hand on his shoulder, and he doesn't flinch, doesn't react.

"Well, Obviously it's aimed towards you, Will." Jack sighs, stuffing his bear-paw-like hands into his pockets, and casting a glance over at the profiler. Will nods, and looks at the girl, swallowing thickly.

"She looks like -- "  
"Abigail Hobbs." Will said this quietly, solemnly, as he looked the body over. Casting a look, dark and hinting, at Jack, he shouts at everyone to leave. Will had looked at you, mouth tight, "Don't look..." He said as he went into the place in his mind.

You and the rest of the FBI waited outside, but from your vantage point, you could see Will through the window. You worried your lower lip with your teeth, and checked your side where a man was standing - you knew who he was as soon as you saw him. Hannibal Lecter was tall, his back straight, cool eyes skimming the scene. His hair was blond, but streaked with silver from age, his cheekbones sharp and mouth seemingly in a perpetual smirk that made it seem he was laughing at a joke known only to him. He didn't even bother hiding his Alpha scent as he looked you up and down with curiosity, unguarded, and you found it rude. "Hello. I don't believe we've met. My name is Hannibal Lecter, I'm Wills Psychiatrist."  
  


"I've heard of you. I'm __." Hannibals eyes flash, and his lips quirk into a smile. "Will talks about you often." There's a silence between you two now as you watch Will. Out of your peripheral vision, you see Hannibal lean a few inches closer to you, breathing in quietly. You snap your head to look at him, tensing, brows furrowing.

"Did you just smell me?"

"Difficult to avoid. Perhaps you should have taken a longer shower this morning, Miss ___." You click your jaw, staying silent for a second, before looking at him.

"Look, Doctor Lecter, I appreciate what you're doing for Will. But do _not_ invade my personal space, or  _smell me_ without my consent. It's rude." You could tell by the raise of his eyebrows, the darkening of his eyes, that Hannibal did not like to be talked to in that way. he said nothing, just a terse, "My Apologies," Before silence fell again. You could still feel the boiling anger in your stomach - you already hated the older Alpha beside you, made sure to zip up your sweatshirt and clasp your hands in front of you to hide your stomach. You refused to give even the slightest hint of submission to this...exotic, educated asshole. Will joins your side soon, and he's so shaken, so pale...

Before Hannibal can lay a hand on him, you softly touch Wills cheek, wiping away the sweat there. Will goes to pop some aspirin in his mouth, but you stop him by grabbing the bottle and the two pills.

"Hey --!"

"Try some hot cocoa instead," You pull out your thermos, filling the cup with steaming chocolate, and handing it to him. "Sugar increases the dopamine in your brain, and also helps with headaches." He laughs, short, and thanks you as he sips at the hot chocolate, looking at the cabin. He gives a shiver, sips the drink again.

"Can I have my aspirin now?"

"No, No more than six in twenty four hours!"

Will sighs, long suffering and exasperated, "Then give me more cocoa."

"With pleasure."

You take Will back to your house ( Hannibal watched you through cold eyes, but you brushed it off. ) And make him some hot food. He talks about the pendulum, glowing in gold, when he went into the killers mind, explained the way his heart raced at the though of himself finding the design. "This is my design," You repeat after him, and he snorts sardonically. 

"...I don't like Hannibal."

Will looks at you, then to his plate of food.

"Neither do I."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I am SO Sorry for starting something new - I know I've got two other projects, but I just finished Hannibal and I'm obsessed.


End file.
